


Beasty and the Beauty

by Bishmonster



Series: Bastardized Fairytales [3]
Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Gift Fic, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Loki Angst, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Loki Has Issues, Loki is Not Amused, Loki-centric, Multi, Odin's A+ Parenting, Telepathic Wanda Maximoff, The Author Regrets Nothing, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, author plays fast and loose with canon, i think you get this story is about loki, loki is the beast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-11-14 09:23:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11205078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bishmonster/pseuds/Bishmonster
Summary: Loki is cursed and sent to Earth by Thanos to spend his last days looking for love. Instead, he spends it trying to find a way out.On hiatus





	1. The Curse and the Castle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DomesticatedTendencies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DomesticatedTendencies/gifts).



> This is for my Seester! I hope I can do it justice. Go read her stuff. DomesticatedTendencies. She's super talented!!!!!

“You have failed me Boy, one too many times. I had thought after I informed you on how this was going to go, you would comply. But still you resist. Letting those mortals defeat you time and again. Not to mention the sacrifice you made for that insipid man they call a Prince. How Odin thought his idiot heir will ever rule over Asgard… well, surely the day will never come. He is too busy playing at love on Midgard. I think your punishment will be fitting, trickster.”

“You cannot be serious.” Loki drawled. He knew he probably shouldn’t argue, but once again, his very own nature had no regard for his wellbeing. Besides, he thought to himself bitterly, he literally had nothing left to lose. 

The one person whom loved him without reservation, without expectation, was gone. Dead. Killed by Algrim of the Kursed. To save Thor’s beloved. Loki’s revenge had been swift. His ascent to the throne, a glory. Then Thanos, the mad Titan, had plucked him from his victory and taken him to this desolate wasteland. Thanos’s motherland. 

“We had a deal.” Thanos’s power could be heard in his baritone. 

“You had a deal.” Loki, once again, argued. Being half dead when the Titan had plucked him from the fall did not give him sound judgement. Plus, the thrall Thanos had placed over him had been a big part of that deal. Thankfully, the sorcerer Thanos had used was dead, killed by his own ceremonial blade. Once Loki had shaken off the thrall (the green immortal rage monster had slammed him into the marble floor repeatedly), Loki warded his own mind against Thanos and the substandard magician. His mother’s help concealing his departure from prison to take care of the sorcerer had gone undetected. Odin had been a fool to not utilize Frigga’s true powers. Of course, his mother wasn’t one to use them to their full advantage either. A waste. 

Bile built in his throat. Wasted. Gone. Dead. The words reverberated in his chaotic mind. 

Thanos interrupted his grief, “I gave you the Chitari. I gave you an army to take over your own planet and they were defeated! By Midgardians, of all the creatures…” The purple giant of a god loomed over Loki, tilting his floating chair ominously. His voice rising with each syllable. Loki held his ground, if only because deep down he was as foolishly brave as his big blonde brother. It was a fault he’d never successfully suppressed. “Don’t think I don’t know you failed on purpose.”

“Do as you must. You’re going to anyway.” Loki waited for the deathblow. The one he wasn’t sure if he could recover from. 

“Do not close your eyes, boy. This isn’t going to hurt… much. Now, hold out your arm. Roll up your sleeve.”

Loki did not have to obey. Thanos’s guard did it for him, forcefully. Bruises were quick to bloom on his borrowed skin color. 

Pain wasn’t new to Loki. His adventures with Thor in their youth had been as painful as they had been exhilarating. Pain knowing how much he did not belong with his supposed family, deeply internalized and ignored. Pain of death a fresh and mighty fear. This pain was a burning pain. Not of fire or sun but of ice, etching itself into his flesh, blue color or no. Sudden and blinding cold, colder than his own natural state. Inescapable. When it was over, Loki was breathless with it. On his knees in the dirt, panting. His slicked back black hair falling in his face, the curls unruly and free. 

The tattoo took up the entirety of his inner forearm. It really was quite beautiful. A flower not dissimilar to the Midgardian rose. The bud was blooming, lush and full. Blood red, with dew dripping from its velvety petals. The stem curved down to the bones of his wrist, dark green with life like thorns. Loki could feel their magical prick into his flesh. Irritating. As punishments went, it wasn’t half bad. Loki was confident in his ability to get rid of the disfigurement.

Thanos’s laughter was foreboding. Loki was only a little worried. He wasn’t dead yet. Clearly, the Titan had a plan. This was an excellent turn of events. Instant death was hard to cure. But games? Loki was well versed in all the ways to cheat at games. He’d spent millennia perfecting his art.

“You have until the rose turns black to find someone to love you. Without tricks. Without games and certainly no mind control. You will be unable to use your pretty illusions, trickster. This sorcerous is better than the last and much harder to kill. She will know. You will be sent to Midgard for your task. No protesting now, if its good enough for your brother..." 

"Thor is not my brother." Loki didn’t exactly yell. To do so would change the course of this conversation quickly. But, his frustration could not be denied.

"You speak of which you do not know. Thor's claim on you has been blessed by the Norns. Your relationship cannot be denied just because you are a sniveling brat." Thanos, despite his megalomaniac tendencies was a big believer in family. He had spent the majority of his existence crafting one, taking those with the same fire in his veins and making them better. Generously gifting them with enhancements and training to survive this wretched life. He had made a mistake with Gamora. It wasn't the first time nor would it be the last. The great thing about being eternal, he had forever to get it right.

“Your little game is doomed. You had best take your revenge now.” Loki sneered. What drivel! The mad Titan was truly insane. To think he would ever love a mortal human. To think any of the creatures could love him. No one had ever actually loved him. Not Sigyn and definitely not Sif. Only Frigga the AllMother. Her capacity to love encompassed all beings, even an abandoned Jotun charlatan.

“Perfect.” Thanos crooned. “The blooms deterioration with be in direct correlation to your own. When the rose turns black you will die and it will be just as slow and torturous as any curse should be. I will enjoy your suffering like a savory dish. Sweet with a hint of spicy as your blood runs black onto the wasteland of Migardian concrete.” Thanos settled back into his throne like he was suddenly bored with the whole situation. “Now go. You have very little time to waste.”

The pull of magic was strong, a binding rope around his waist pulling him through time and space in a fast and eye meltingly vision of the cosmos. The unrelenting yank lasted mere moments. Loki landed with a grunt, the ground jarring his knees, his momentum pulling him forward to crack his skull up a snowy ground. Liquid from the cut on his temple dripped into his eyes like thick rainfall, staining the white ground like paint splatter. He laughed at the sight, enjoying the irony. He should be dead. He could be dead. The fall through one side of the universe to the other was dangerous, not many could handle the strain. His only injury met at the landing, bested by the stability of the ground itself. 

Really, he could laugh until he cried.

******

Loki found himself in the clearing of a forest. The snow on the ground indicated the dead of winter. It was extremely cold. Lucky for the frost giant, he could withstand the icy temperatures. He even reveled in it a little, the freedom to not fake a shiver. The coldness a forgotten memory of home. There were entire years on Asgard where he thought he would just melt from the glinting sunshine. The weather there much milder, the winter a joke of dramatics when the people would don heavy furs and complain about their aching bones. It had been one of the first discrepancies he had noticed as a child. And how he had felt his mother’s love when she had charmed his coats to keep him cool. 

He had enjoyed learning her craft, honing the gift. It wasn’t until he’d felt the oppression of Thor’s arrogance to ascend the throne that he had ever learned to use magic for nefarious purposes. If Odin hadn’t thought Loki was ignorant of the favoritism and hadn’t dangled the kingdom, a golden carrot of power, perhaps things would have turned out differently. 

Loki didn’t truly believe that. The Allfather’s hatred of the Jotunns had poisoned Loki long before Thor had turned from an adventurous young boy to a berserker hell bent on victorious battle. The Thunderer had little regard to the diplomacy required to rule which chaffed Loki to no end. Loki knew in his dark heart that he would be a fair and just ruler. But, part of Loki had always known where he belonged and Odin’s offenses had been worse than any betrayal Loki had ever known. Odin was practically claiming his hatred for his adopted son by openly aggrandizing the defeat of his people. And then all the lies had piled up, growing with each century until, even Loki, did not know the real truth any longer. Odin should have never baited Loki with the ideals of family and legacy if he never meant any of it. 

Loki swiped at his face. The bitter air was making his eyeballs leak. 

Walking had never been a favorite of the trickster. Running even less so. He enjoyed horseback for the exercise but not for long distance. The ability to fly would be nice. Perhaps during his tenure on Midgard he could teach himself to soar. Even with the stifling atmosphere he was sure he could do it. Magic was easy as long as his will stayed strong. 

It wasn’t until the sun had set that Loki realized the time of day. The wind turned fierce. Loki thought about bedding down. He would not die, exposed as he was. But even a frost giant had a limit to how much cold it could stand. His body was strong. He could endure. He just… didn’t want to. Sleeping out in the middle of nowhere on a planet he held a bevy of contempt for didn’t seem all that appealing. Loki trudged on for miles, trading one discomfort for another, until the sun rose again. It’s morning light an irritant against his weary stinging eyeballs. Dawn, the poet’s dreamscape, was overrated. Give him the light of the fires. The warm glow of chaos. 

Or a gray stone castle, in the middle of a frozen forest.

It wasn’t abandoned, which wouldn’t be a problem. The human’s puny guns would have no effect on him. The bullets were easy to misdirect, the minds of men were simple to persuade. Loki wasn’t concerned with the warning against using his power. There was no one in this little army interesting to him. They were already brainwashed by an Octopus with a misnomer for a name. The Greek stories had featured a land dwelling creature with multiple heads, not a sea creature that pissed itself with ink when frightened. 

Loki quickly took control of the castle, ousting its squatters with little to no regrets. Only two men were stubborn enough to resist. Their deaths were like cracking his knuckles. Loki felt no remorse, their actions and intents much worse than any mischief he could come up with on his own. He did feel some guilt that he could not make them feel the exact amount of pain they had inflicted on their victims. A painless death gave no justice to the wronged. When he was finished, he quickly separated the interlopers from the people who actually belonged there.

“Where is your master.” He asked the oldest of the lot, hoping with age came wisdom not to thwart him. 

“Dead and gone. We live in the village and work here for wages. We are not slaves.” The old woman said. She was not being rebellious. Merely informative. She also had a calculating mind. 

“Money, is it hard to come by?” Loki asked. He had little use for money himself, the wealth of Odin held little value to him. Loki’s craving was power. And Authority. To have his name uttered with respect. Time had made him uncaring of how this came about. The old woman looked at him like he had lost his sanity. She wasn’t far off the mark. 

“For those of you who wish to stay, I will provide you with wages. For those of you who wish to go, I will alter your memory of this place. You will leave here with no knowledge of what occurred and no desire to come back. Should you stay you will be taken care of, and in return I ask for your loyalty and your silence. I cannot guarantee what will happen if you leave.”

Loki was satisfied when only one young man left. The alteration was quick and painless. He never felt a thing and suddenly had the desire to travel out of country. Loki wished him all the luck even as he scoffed at such lowly yearning. No part of Midgard could hold such appeal for the god of chaos. 

The old woman, the cook, took charge of the household workers. Loki ordered that all the nefarious equipment be stored and locked away, including the scepter. Loki had no use for the infinity stone. He had a healthy respect for its power. He also didn’t think it could save him now. The mind stone’s use could safely qualify as “trickery” and “magic”. He might find use for it someday, if the rose permitted. He still didn’t know how long his interment was going to be. The rose was still red, the thorns still digging into his skin. Loki felt certain Thanos would enjoy prolonging the futile nature of the curse. No human would love Loki, Loki was doomed to die. Thanos was getting a healthy dose of justification. The arsehole. 

“Sir, what do you want to do about the prisoners.” The cook, the unspoken spokesperson, handed him a delicately crafted cup of tea. It was dark colored and sweetened with honey. He liked it. He also liked the way the pearly goblet clinked against its saucer.

“Where are they?” Loki had not sensed any other beings in the stone fortress. 

“In the basement.” She told him. 

“You mean dungeon.” Loki scoffed. “How cliché.”

The dungeon was modified. There were the traditional cells and chains nailed into stone but the previous occupants of the castle had added a hermetically sealed, magic warded room. Inside were two teenagers. Close relations, Loki could tell, even though they barely resembled each other. 

The boy was tall and slender, silver streaks in his brown hair. He looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin. He stood like a sentinel in front of the girl, a smirk to hide the worry in his ice blue eyes. The girl was just as slender but delicate with it instead of lean with muscle. She looked incredibly young beneath the heavy makeup on her face. Her dark reddish hair was mottled with brown, her eyes the color of his favorite tunic. The palest of jade. She had her head cocked like she was listening for something, a puzzled frown on her face when she could not hear it. 

There was a push button speaker by the keypad for the door.

“Give me a good reason to let you out and I will.” 

Surprise bloomed on both of their faces. He could not hear them through the glass. It annoyed him. 

“Quickly, before I change my mind.” He prompted. 

“It is the right thing to do.” The boy said. His arrogance a shadow of the golden prince. 

“Try again.” He admonished. To think he cared about the rightness of things. 

“I can help you find what you seek.” The girl said.

“You do not know what I seek.”

“No.” she said slowly. The tremor of her voice low and filled with smoke. “But I can help you find it.” 

Her brother was objecting. “Trading one prison for another is not the plan. We have goals to accomplish and wasting time on a stranger with ulterior motives is not part of it.” 

The girl said nothing to his protests at first, giving him the drollest of stares. Then she told him to stop being an idiot. “Brother, if you want out of this cell, antagonizing the man guarding the door is not the way to do it. Our plans mean nothing if we are trapped in a little box with our powers suppressed. 

Loki was amused how they spoke like he was not there. He also hated it. But the idea of powers intrigued him. 

“What are your abilities.” He demanded.

The siblings clammed up. Loki sighed. This part of the game was no fun without being able to make them give themselves away. 

“The boy can run fast, faster than a jet. The girl is a witch and can read minds. But she isn’t very good at the first.”

“Thank you, Marta.” He told the cook. Frigga had always enjoyed his pretty manners. 

“The Baron liked to complain.” Marta shrugged.

“A terrible habit.” Loki conceded. He turned to the glass cage. “I will let one of you out, if I can keep the other. That is the deal.” He didn’t care which one. The boy would be amusing if only to taunt. He was very much like Thor with his haughtiness and bluster. Loki enjoyed the idea of keeping him like a pet. The girl was another story. She could be the loophole he was looking for. If she could reverse the curse and rid him of the emblem… his uses for her were endless. 

Loki let his impatience known, “Which will it be?” 


	2. Into the West Wing and an Invitation to Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki finds his lair

In the end, the boy, called Quicksilver, said he would stay. Loki’s thin mouth mewled into a pout. The girl seemed so much more clever under all her blatant insecurities. Loki asked Marta for the code to disengage the lock. The old woman did not seem surprised when she did not have to open her mouth for him to understand. Loki quickly keyed in the code. There was no protesting, which surprised him. The girl took her time hugging her brother. She did not seem afraid to be leaving. She was quiet and solemn. Loki suspected this as her fixed personality. She was partly out of the doorway when Loki noticed the thin tendrils of red mist drifting from her hands around Quicksilver’s neck, to his head, curling around his skull and disappearing like mystical tentacles into his temples. The boy shuddered once, glaring at his sister until his expression went blank.

“I will come back for you, siestra.” Voice monotone and blue eyes flat, before he calmly walked out of the cell, up the stone staircase, slick with moss. Loki mentally followed his un-ness as he steadfastly trudged through the half empty castle.

“That, lovely girl, was impressive.” Loki spoke the truth. What was the point of being the god of lies if he couldn’t confuse people with the truth. The girl, did not looked fazed by his praise. She was listening to the air. It was an obvious tell, trying to read him. He wished her the best of luck. If she could get through his wards, he would be very impressed, indeed. Her look of frustration was amusing when she shook her head.

“What do they call you?” Loki asked, a bit unnerved when she didn’t demand her release. Instead, she sat back down on her little cot, cross legged, and plucked at her black tights with one hand. The other hand held her chin. She didn’t respond immediately and Loki had to remind himself that he was a patient person, sometimes waiting whole centuries for one of his ruses to pay off. The last five hundred years with Thor had been a study in endurance, the golden prince making every effort to piss off the entirety of the nine realms. Loki made it his duty to wait him out, to see him get himself killed so he could take the throne. Unfortunately, the blonde buffoon had luck in immeasurable quantities. And here Loki was, cursed and dying, no kingdom in sight. Well, he did recently acquire a decrepit Midgardian castle. Things were surely looking up.

“They call her the Scarlett Witch. I do not know her real name.” Marta said, helpful as she had been the whole time. Loki did not show his surprise, but he had ignored her existence for the moment. Not a smart move on his part. Marta might be proving to be an ally but Loki would never trust her. He would never trust anyone. Not ever again. His mother had taken all of his ability to rely on anyone to Valhalla with her demise.

“Is this what you wish to be called.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he cared. Maybe it was because she was his prisoner, a fate he recently escape. A fate he seemed to never escape. Her wellbeing in his hands. She deserved to have a name and it should be the name she wanted. Loki had many names. Some he had earned and some he deserved and one he never will know. Mostly, when he was addressed, it is with derision. He relished the ire. 

Maybe he respected a fellow craft welder. A witch. A Magic user. Power should be respected and used wisely with intended purpose. She had power. He could smell it on her. Could see it in her guileless green eyes and the mist of red leaking from her fingertips. The cell curbed its potency, only making Loki wish more to see her true potential. He wanted to feel the storm of her unleashed. She would be very powerful once he taught her how to use it. For now, she would remain untapped until he knew if her interference with his dilemma would negate the effects of the curse. Or make it worse. He held no hope for a positive outcome. But he had to try. All he could do now was try. Because waiting for some idiot to fall in love with him was futile and infinitely cruel. 

“Wanda.” The cool dry alto interrupted his musings. This was beginning to be a pattern. Perhaps his landing on Midgard with his frontal lobe had done some damage if he kept losing time like he was. Once again, he hid his surprise. A skill learned early on at Odin’s knee. “Wanda Maximoff.”

“Wanda…” Loki tasted the world like wine. It was tart and unripe. He did not like it. 

As he closed the door to lock her in, he bowed to her, a mockery of her interment. Then, he left. Up the staircase, through the great hall. Marta directed him to the West Wing of the keep. It was the cleanest, she said. The soldiers had kept away from the dreary corridor and their filth had not contaminated the rooms. It was also colder there. No fires having been set in months. The maids being on demand where all the research and experiments were taking place. 

“This is the Master’s bedroom.” Marta opened the door to a very ornate suite. Loki spied gold filigree throughout the furniture. A large, sturdy wooden bedframe with posts, heavy velvet drapery warming the ancient walls. Thick rugs littered the floor. He was delighted to see the theme was heavy with his favorite emerald color. 

“I thought your master was dead.” He mused, tracing his fingers alone a dusty dresser. Touching the lace of the runner. The mirror reflected his borrowed image. He didn’t frown as he wanted. His smile was a small cold thing with bright white teeth and too much sneer. Marta had been looking at him but shifted her gaze when she saw his expression. Uneasiness apparent when she took a step back.

“For two decades now, but it will always be his rooms.”

“Sentiment” He would never understand. Marta, a smart woman, took the opportunity to leave him be. She told him the plumbing was up to date and if he wished, clothing would be sent up to him, though she could not guarantee the fit. He thanked her and asked for a light supper for him and his charge in two hours. She was to be kept in the cell but he would take his in the dining room. 

Loki made use of the facilities. Being clean was a blessing from the Norns. Another thing he would never understand was Thor’s penchant for getting down and dirty. The gorier the hunt the better. Loki was fastidious, his compatriots’ heckling, not moving him in the slightest. To be covered in blood and dirt held no appeal.

After his bathing was complete, Loki emerged from the water to find someone had left him a bathing sheet made of soft fluffy material. He wrapped it around his waist. The mirror, though he did not look at it, revealed a tall, thin man, with a smattering of dark hair the same color as the lengthy curls on his head. He had muscle but he was not bulky with it. His lines were long and graceful and he knew how to use them to his advantage, in battle or in bed. The only problem: 

It was all a lie. 

His true self, the last of his people, was a monstrous being. Blue and ten feet tall and called a runt, small for his people. Loki had not taken his true form since he learned of it. He couldn’t bear to see the thing that made him so different and so unworthy of Odin’s love and respect. 

Loki laid down on the musty smelling bed atop the duvet. His body required rest. He did not sleep. He let his mind drift into the silence of the snow falling outside. Into the noise one hears in the middle of an old castle in the dead of winter. He let his body relax for the dozens of minutes it took for the cook to prepare his meal. He would sleep later, once he had protected his space from intruders and the ne’er-do-wells, like himself. But for now, a bit of rest.

The knock on the door was not unwelcome. Loki took a moment to open his eyes and reorient his surroundings. He blinked in the dusky light and swiftly rose from the bed. A man was on the other side, he held a candelabra to illuminate the hall. 

“Dinner is waiting for you in the dining room sir. Here is the clothing you requested.” The man wasn’t ancient but he wasn’t young either. His face was grave and lined at the forehead. His skin was ashen from months of not meeting the sun. His accent was strange and not like Marta’s or the siblings. 

“I’ll be down shortly. Has the girl eaten yet?”

“She has refused.” The servant made a face of distaste.

“What did she say.” Loki was amused by his demeanor. The man was either upset at her attitude or did not like her abilities. Loki made it game to find out the hard way.

“She stated her willingness to stay but her displeasure with her treatment.”

“Were those her exact words?” Loki, having no modesty, dressed unhurriedly. The clothing was loose but clean. Its texture pleasant against his skin. The gray woolen trousers were lined with satin to prevent irritation. The tunic, black, buttoned up the front, like most Midgardian dress clothing. Loki absentmindedly rolled up the sleeves until he remembered his new adornment. He quickly unrolled them and faked a shiver to hide his faux pas. 

“…No…,“ the older man hesitated, face uneasy.

Loki laughed at him unrepentantly derisive.

“Have her fetched to join me for dinner. If she refuses… let her starve.”


	3. An Arrangement is Discussed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Wanda discuss their partnership

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first story I've written with Loki. I've never really been interested in him as a protagonist before. But, I have suddenly and inexplicably fallen in love with this character. Thank you Seester!

The dining hall was a somber cavity, lit only by torches on the wall. They were not the infinitely clever electric fueled torches either. They were proper wooden ones with real flame. The table was heavy and mahogany. It was ornately carved and seated twenty. The chairs were set to match. Rugs, oriental, lined the floor to stave off the chill. They were unsuccessful. Loki liked the patterns they made. The walls had old tapestries, the light so low he could not make them out. He suspected they depicted glorious battles. The fire place was large enough for twenty grown men to stand inside, posture erect. The grandiose quality, as aged and outdated as it were, reminded him of home more than he’d like to admit. He asked Marta why the dining hall was lit so;

“The Baron liked the atmosphere. He would conduct his interrogations here.” She replied, overseeing the lad carrying the assortment of china and utensils. Another young man brought out the food, following her instructions silently. Neither one of the boys looked directly at Loki. 

“The Baron was your master?” He knew her answer. He just wanted to see if she would lie to him.

“The Baron is the bastard Nazi you seized the castle from. He was not here today. I do not know where he went, but he will probably be back. Undoubtedly for the staff.”

Loki interpreted her hand movements to mean the scepter. The mind-stone. “Dear, dear, Marta. This information would have been more helpful earlier today.” He wasn’t trying to taunt her. She looked frightened regardless of his intentions. Her round, wrinkled face gray. “I am not going to hurt you. You have been very informative and useful. I could use someone on my staff with your capabilities. The smell of this soup alone…” Loki took a spoonful of the Tomato and basil dish. It was frothy with cream, the aroma, divine. “As it stands, I require an assistant, so to speak. I have a task to complete while I am here and I will need someone to help… guide me through the mire. You have proved to be helpful, is this something that would interest you?”

“I have a retirement to prepare for. I am not as young as I used to be. This job would require more responsibilities?” Marta asked shrewdly. Her brown eyes were narrowed at him as if her were the one applying for the job. She was a delight.

He nodded his head, amused with her. Trust a mortal to be concerned with wealth. “I would, of course, compensate you accordingly.” His enunciation the essence of droll. 

“You said you did not have money.” Crassness was not appealing even though he enjoyed her straightforwardness. Marta’s mouth was line with disapproval. 

“Acquiring it will not be a problem.” He had a plan, formed on the fly, when searching the mind of one of the goons he had bested earlier. There was a large cache of gold and paper not far from the castle they resided in now. The stash hidden and only accessible from a tunnel under the mountain. Loki couldn’t be sure of the authenticity of the memory but inaction led to boredom. He had very little else to do, to occupy his time. 

“If that is the case, I gladly accept. What would be my duties?” She asked primly. 

Before he could answer her, the doors to the dining hall opened noisily. Two lumbering men escorting his guest. She had manacles around her wrists as well as strange mittens on her hands. Her mouth spewed vitriol not suitable for any young lady. She was breathtaking. 

Loki quickly shook off that line of thinking. 

“What in the name of the Allfather is going on? Why is she in chains? Who gave the instructions to put her in chains? This is unacceptable. Unbind her, now.” He addressed the two men, both in the middle of life. Both clearly the muscle of the place. Marta, for her part, scolded them heartedly as they unlocked the heavy metal monstrosities. “This young woman is our guest,” Loki, voice loud and clear, told the room, knowing the news would spread. The men looked chagrined, the boys looked confused. Marta had a look of satisfaction. The girl was expressionless and he could not read her, not one bit. Loki was not surprised she had worked on warding her mind.

The arm in his grasp was delicate, the wrist fragile with fresh bruising. He was tempted to use his magic to fix it. The memory of his own bruising recent enough to make him shudder. Well, at least they hadn’t sewn his mouth shut, the threat had been very real. Another fate his mother had saved him from. 

“Marta, fetch us some ice.” He asked the old woman. She hurried to obey. She returned moments later with a bowl and a towel. 

“I thought I was your prisoner.” The girl did not sound confused. She sounded like she was pointing out an inconsistency. She wasn’t wrong. He had locked her up earlier. 

“You agreed to stay when you sent your brother away.” He shrugged at her, then, indicated she sit at the other place setting next to the head of the table. She frowned at the waiting bowl of soup. “Is there something wrong?” 

“They gave me crusts of bread and water earlier.”

“Ah. I see. Well,” he settled in the high-backed chair to her right. “While you are here, you will be treated as a guest. As long as you don’t try to run, or use your power against me. Your visit will not be long. Only until you find what I seek. Then I will let you go.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you want to keep Pietro? You gave the option. He was set to stay.” She shook her head at her irrational brother. 

“Pietro, was it? Hmmmm. He would have had his uses.” Loki said cryptically. She probably wouldn’t appreciate his plans to groom her brother as his pet. Willingly, of course. “But you volunteered. I am curious as to why.”

“You’re Loki.” She said slowly, obviously building up courage for what she wanted to say. He did not confirm or deny her statement. She was no idiot and his face had been plastered all over the media. Talk about crass! “You’re the enemy of the Avengers.” Again, he did not confirm or deny, even though it was so much more complicated. 

Thor had learned of Thanos’s hold over Loki. He had promised to extoll the wrongness done and Loki’s brave actions in the end. Surely, the loyalty of that oaf had exonerated the mischief-maker’s name. Loki held no doubts his so-called brother had used that big mouth of his to defend his honor. It was horrifying to think on. Loki had not been proud of the things he had done while under the influence, but he didn’t like to be known to be the victim either. Loki was a survivor, not a pathetic pawn in the war of the galaxy. 

“What do you know of Tony Stark?” She asked.

“His phallic tower is overcompensating for his daddy issues.” Loki the truthful did not sound nearly as interesting as the god of lies. But her laugh was a surprising mix of sexy husky and school girl giggle. It was the least delicate thing about her and it echoed in the dark chamber. The fire light seemed to dance with it, its shadows making a merry mix on her young face. Enchanting and strange. 

“He killed my family.” All laughter stopped. A hollow pit opened in Loki’s stomach, leaving no room for the next spoonful of soup. 

“You know this as fact?” he was not calling her a liar. Loki could tell she truly believed the mechanically inclined humanitarian was responsible.

“His name was printed on the bomb my brother and I waited to explode in our faces. We waited for ten hours. Our parents were killed by another one. We were ten years old.” She told him matter-of-factly.

“Tragic.” He told her. He meant it. He also enjoyed the way her eyes narrowed and streams of red poured from her fingertips better than the monotone delivery of her rasp and the dull blankness on her face. “And you want me to…”

“Kill him.” She said without hesitation, without flinching. Loki wanted to probe her mind. To see if she had any exact specifications for the foul dead. He resisted, just barely. He really needed to find out the parameters of the curse. “In exchange. I will find the thing you seek. Though I suspect it is not the thing you have in mind.”

“Can you see the future?” He made no agreement to kill Ironman.

“No, not really, only possible realities. But there are so many. I can make you see them.” She sounded helpful and her grin was only a little mean. 

“I’ll pass, thank you muchly.” He smiled at her. It was not friendly. “For this partnership to work, you will assure me you will not try to use your craft against me. I can promise you my retaliation will be swift and fatal. Do not test me on this.”

She nodded in agreement. Satisfied with the terms of their deal, she ate, though sparingly. She looked sick with hunger but also wary. Loki suspected the Baron had used food against the siblings, as a way to control them. He would not be surprised if she had hoarded the bread from earlier on her body somewhere to save for later. A vulgar means of torture, Loki would make arrangements for her to be feed many small light meals until her stomach could handle more. 

“Since you are not an actual prisoner here, you have the option to pick a bedroom, any bedroom, for your use. Just let Marta know to have it prepared for you. Also, you’re clothing…” He trailed off recognizing the conversation as a barb in the fragile illusion of her pride. She had set her spoon down and lifted her chin, defying him to continue. The fire in her, a match to the ice in him. “I assume the Baron was remise in his responsibilities to you and your brother. Tell Marta what you require and I will have it available post haste.”

“A bath.” She was no longer staring him down. Her hair was felled over her face. The brief flair of fight in her gone with his generosity. 

“I have been assured, the plumbing is up to date.” And then, because at times, Thor’s influence was a flaw Loki knew slept in the back of his mind, he put his foot in his mouth. “Let me know if you need help with that bath.”

Oh, how she raged at him! “Pig! How dare you! I will not be needing any help from the likes of you! Stay away from me!” She stormed out of the nearly dark room, opening the doors with a flick of her wrists, slamming them shut with a bang. Loki laughed until he cried, but he also sent for Marta.

“Make sure she doesn’t leave. Put her in the room next to mine if it is habitable. Do not tell her. She requires a bath and proper clothing.”

“Of course, Sir.” Marta curtsied on wobbly knees.

What an interesting first day.

***

Pietro had not walked at such a slow pace since well before he had developed his powers. Speed was a drug to him he could never deny. The slow and steady, one foot in front of the other steps were a small kind of hell. Wanda would know his displeasure after he rescued her. The only good thing about the pace she set him on? He had time to think. Time to plan. By the time night fell, he felt the magic wear off and he was gone from the frozen forest. The only people he knew could defeat Loki, resided in New York. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has seen the French 2014 rendition of Beauty and the Beast, then you know where part of the inspiration for this scene came from. It is truly a beautiful movie, and the beast is played by that guy that was Ocean's nemesis when they stole the egg. I think it was the second movie. Ocean's 12? Meh. Go watch both and see his pretty pretty face.


	4. Into the Woods where there be Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki tries to teach Wanda control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Lovely Sister is my sounding board and I would be struggling to get this out a hundred times harder if it wasn't for her. Go read her stuff! [DomesticatedTendencies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DomesticatedTendencies/pseuds/DomesticatedTendencies)

Loki did not sleep that night. As weary as he was, as loudly as his sore body protested, his mind just would not quiet. It had always been this way. His whirling mind the base for any trouble he managed to find as a child. Frigga, at her wits end had taught him magic just to keep him occupied, and it worked until it didn't. He did get better at hiding his restlessness, much to her relief.  Then, for a time, when Thor was running them all over the galaxy in the quest for victorious battle, Loki could still his mind. Battle was a tiring business. Loki had enjoyed the blaze of the campfires at the end of the day. The blood of their foes in the rivers and the meat of beasts roasting making the air smell like the kitchens at home.  This was the time when all the animosity and resentment could be set aside, before the dawn would come, cold light illuminating reality.  Soon there were too many new things to process, too many new people to fight with. He grew bored and had to find new ways of entertainment. Illusions were just as taxing. Astral Projection a favorite of his.

 

Now, in the cold of the castle, in the dark of the night, Loki contemplated his plight. Such a silly curse. Find someone to love him? Why would he even need that? Love was for his idiot br... for Thor. Only Thor believed in love anymore.  A futile and bothersome emotion.

 

Frigga had loved him. Which he still did not understand. Unequivocally. She had known his true heritage. His true nature. She had never judged his thirst for chaos, never tried to curb his yen for chicanery.  Even after his first ascent to the throne and his subsequent fall to Thanos, she had loved him. She hadn't been able to free him. But she had never stopped loving him. Which was probably the only thing keeping him from successfully taking over Midgard. Some deep seeded part of him did not want to disappoint her. He had know of Selvig's interference and had done nothing. Now Frigga was dead and Loki was paying for his failure.

 

He could really use her help now. Her love now. Could her love save him? That line of thinking was endless and in vain. Thanos had said a Midgardian. And no tricks.

 

What did that even mean?

 

Loki waited out the night, lying down on the musty bed. He did not sleep but he did rest and that was enough to fuel him for the next day. Breakfast was silent. Miss Maximoff said very little. It was frustrating with his inability to read her. The circles under her eyes were large and dark in a wane pale face. She looked cleaner, her hair shined in the meager light. She wore new clothing, black and baggy, with a thin gray sweater protecting her from the draft. She was entirely too skinny. A far cry from the women of Asgard, much less those of Jotunn heritage.

 

"Perhaps instead of sighing at me, you could tell me what you want from me."

 

"Not everything is about you." He quipped. She thinned her unpainted mouth at him. Loki looked away from her displeasure, having encountered it infinitely in his lifetime. "I've been cursed. By a sorcerous employed by the Mad Titan Thanos. Have you heard of him."

 

"No." She was trying to read his mind again. To see if he were telling the truth. Or to find out more. He wondered how long she had this power. If it came naturally or if it was gifted to her. She seemed at ease with using it, unlike her other power. The untapped misty one.

 

"Count yourself lucky." He assured her. "He wants to rule all the Galaxies and see them burn. Not that I disagree with his sentiment. I would just prefer a little finesse. Honestly, the Chitari? I would have never agreed to an alliance with those ghouls if he had not been in control."

 

"You were his slave?" Her accent was thicker. Her green eyes narrowed. He did not care for her inflection.

 

"He used the mind-stone to convince me to make a deal. Your earth for my subordination. He would control this planet through me."

 

"What is the mind-stone?" She was picking at her eggs. But she ate all of her bacon. Loki wanted to make her drink the tall glass of milk Marta had provided. He refrained, knowing women did like being told what to do even if it was good for them.

 

"Big glowy stick in the basement. The one they used to unlock you and your brother's powers."

 

"We are mutants." She mumbled but he heard her anyway. "Our father was a mutant, and he left us with the Maximoffs. They were our family."

 

Loki could say nothing in the face of her surety. Blackness billowed in to cloud his sight. This nothing of a mortal! Sentimental over her dead and they weren't even her blood! He could not hear her, could not taste the coffee on his lips. A rage built inside him. The same he felt right before Thor defeated the Destroyer. The same he suppressed after every interaction with the Allfather. The wood of the chair beneath him creaked with warning. The arm splintered in his hands.

 

"This is why we cannot have nice things." Marta, bravely, tsked at him when she saw what he had done. She refilled his mug of bitter nectar. "Perhaps another conversation is due?"

 

"Thank you Marta." Loki said between clenched teeth. The smile on his face as false as the cheer in her voice. "Your power is not stable. Marta said you didn't know how to use it." He did not ask. Loki could tell he was on the right track by the redness creeping up her face. Miss Maximoff did not lash out at him, though he could tell she wanted to. She did draw her legs up on the chair until she was holding them to her body.

 

"I know how," she said defensively. "It just... gets too big."

 

He did not like the shrugging. If she were to stay, he was going to have to train her into better posture and not broadcasting her emotions with body language. "No control. That's easy to amend. What is your center?" He rolled his eyes when she shrugged again. "Have you tried meditation?"

 

"Yoga." She scoffed.

 

"No, little lamb. Not ridiculous stretching poses and positive thinking to tuneless humming. I mean sitting in silence and reaching into your very depths to find that part of yourself to keep you steady." He told her, fond of the ways her eyes flared.

 

"I've always had my brother to center me." She finally admitted.

 

"Clearly that method has not worked. I assume what you have on is comfortable?" His change of questioning did not faze her.

 

"Yes." She squared her shoulders and set her bare feet on the floor.

 

"Excellent." Loki called for Marta to direct them to an empty room they could use. She took them to a drawing room with no actual furniture. Just an old music device, the walls had large mirrors in aged gold frames, nearly floor to ceiling.

 

"The Master liked his dancing. The Baron took the settee the Mistress liked to sit on and ruined it." She carefully did not say how he ruined it. But the look on Miss Maximoff's face was pained and a little green.

 

"This will do nicely." Loki assured her. "Fetch us for the nooning meal. She's going to need the sustenance."

 

"Of course, Sir." Marta curtsied her way out, much to Loki's pleasure. This, was all he ever really asked for. Deference.

 

Loki spent the next two hours trying to get the young girl to focus. Finally she yelled out, "it's just so loud! There are too many people and I can hear them all! All but you!" She was not happy. Sweat glistened at her temples. Tears made her jade eyes look like grass. Her weird hair was a mess from running her hands through it and tugging on the strands. Her palms were mottled with dots of red from her fingernails. She was soggy and he was sloppy. Loki, himself, looked no better. He had tied his hair up with a string he had absolutely no faith in. His voice was hoarse and his limbs heavy with fatigue. He latched onto the last thing she said. "You cannot hear me. That's it then, use me. Focus on me. Ignore the rest. Sit up, that floor is filthy. And close your eyes. That's the way. Focus on my voice. Listen to my breathing, try to match it with your own..." Loki did his best not to hypnotize her. She needed to be able to do this on her own. After several tense minutes of her breathing in and out in conjunction to his own lungs, the lines on her forehead smoothed out.

 

"Wow." She murmured more to herself than to anyone else. "Pretty."

 

"Relax into it. Deep breaths. Still your mind and your mouth."

 

Being unable to see her mind himself, frustrated Loki. He was the epitome of patience, sitting cross legged on the floor mimicking her posture. He waited and waited, not sure what would occur. The first tendril of red snuck up on him, tickling his foot. He shook it off and made a disgusted noise. Loki did not like having his feet touched. The second tendril was larger and brighter, more a gold then red and it rose up as if to wave at him. It did not interfere with him or try to leave the room, but it did wrap around the girl, protectively, pulsing with color. The tendril grew, gaining momentum and brothers as more mist shot out from her fingertips and toes, from her bent elbows and wrists. The crimson quickly surrounded his charge until he could barely see her clearly.

 

He called her name. Gently at first and a little ill at ease. She did not respond.

 

"Miss Maximoff," he said again, more demanding. Absolutely no response.

 

"Wanda!" He yelled when she lifted off the ground, hovering above his head. The room grew loud with his demands to open her eyes, to stop. To wake up. She could not hear him. Heartbeat racing and stomach queasy, he reached through the mist. It  _burned_ and he screamed with the pain, but he could reach her foot. His touch shocking her out of her daze and she dropped to the floor with an umph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone catch the Archer reference?


	5. There might be something that wasn't there before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki continues to coach Wanda with her powers. There be treasure at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had that song stuck in my head this whole chapter.

 

"Stop being a whiny baby and hold still"

"I am holding still" Loki groused. He was trying to hold still. Miss Maximoff had her head bent over his arm. Her long silky hair was obscuring his view. He had a need to see the damage.  The flesh was bubbled up and the entirely wrong color. He looked crispy and gooey. It certainly didn't smell pleasant either. She looked like she was going to throw up. He told her so.

"I've seen worse." Loki didn't ask if she had seen it in person. He had his suspicions.

"I've had worse." He shrugged at her when she squinted her eyes suspiciously. "Thor was a little... wild in his youth. He would drag me into his fights." Loki didn't tell her how exhilarating they were for him. Echoes of battle cries rang in his ears. She hummed at him, unimpressed.

"I can't heal this. I'm not even sure how and I might make it worse. But I can help with the pain." She whispered. Her pale face had two bright flags of pink. She looked incredibly young. Her hair smelled like the flowers his mother was fond of and sweet like honey. It was damned distracting.

"Pain is nothing to me. Do not concern yourself." Loki told her. "Let us take a break. I'm sure Marta has made us something delicious to eat.

"I caused you harm and you act like it's a trifle? Now you want to go eat. I do not understand. Why are you not mad? Why do you not demand punishment?" She sounded on edge and bewildered.

"Did the Baron behave this way." He had walked the length of the room, needing air and refreshment. Cool, clean water sounded delightful. He was so very thirsty.  
She did not respond. She looked ashamed. It wasn't a good look on her.

"You have power. So does your brother. You could have over powered him or made him believe anything you wanted him to believe. Why did you let him treat you this way?" Loki would certainly not have stood for this kind of treatment.

"What he offered in return for our obedience was greater than our discomfort." She finally said once they were seated in the dining hall. Marta had made them some kind of fowl with a large leafy green salad. Loki approved.

"Eat up, little lamb. We will start back up shortly."

"Your hand is blue." She stated dumbly. Her fork was poised in the air, the vinaigrette dressing dripping from the leaf onto the table. Marta would not be happy.  
Loki tried to shrug it off. Tried to ignore it, which was hard when her eyes were as round as her face and staring straight at it. He placed his healing hand in his lap and glared at her until she looked up.

"You mean your revenge on Tony Stark." Loki said, clearly enough to be exasperated when her response was "Huh?"

"He offered you revenge on Tony Stark. The thing so great you allowed you and your brother to be enslaved by a man with no redeeming qualities from the evidence around me." Loki's sneer was not forced. The Baron was just another Thanos, using the gifted as a disposable army. Loki doubted very much the Baron would've followed through. He would've strung the twins along until they starved to death or revolted. Miss Maximoff packed a mean punch. There was no telling what would've happened if she had unleashed her power in a desperate rage. "What could the Baron do, that you could not."

She had no answer for him.

"Finish your meal. Training resumes in a half hour." Loki left the table, essentially to find a shirt that did not smell like burnt flesh. Also to hide his forearm. The skin was knitting itself back together, slowly but faster than any mortal would experience. It was vibrantly blue. The perks of being a monster, Loki supposed. Advance healing. His other arm, still marked up by beauty, was tingling. He examined it and could not find any change. Perhaps the pain from his other arm was overriding the thorn prick of the curse. How enlightening.

Marta anticipated him, the wondrous creature she was. His new assistant met him at his suite with bandages and a fresh shirt with a strange ribbed material. It was very warm but very comfortable. She said absolutely nothing about the state of his arm. Her behavior would be handsomely rewarded.

That gave him a perfect project for his protégé.

"Follow me." She was once again seated on the ground, legs akimbo. She jumped up but looked weary.

"Why are you taking me down here." Her voice was wavering. Loki assumed she did not like the dungeon. With good reason. He had a healthy respect for the one on Asgard as well.

"I'm going to surmise you've read the minds of the men under the Baron's control." He raised an eyebrow at her when she gingerly took the steps down. Loki held out his marked arm to help her. The tattoo tightened, digging into the muscle. He did not take his arm back as much as he wanted to scream out with the pain.  
"I did. When I could. When I wasn't in our cell." Her voice was a soothing balm, distracting him.

"Then you know of the vault." He asked.

"I... not really. The Baron had tricks to keep me out. And most of the men had never heard of it. Not after the first wave died." She did not tell him how the first wave died. Or the cause. "How do you know of it."

"Marta's mind is very clear to me. She is smart and remembers the old things. The vault came to her mind when I asked her about payment. She has been trying to find a way in since the Baron sealed it. I believe it is the only reason she stayed." Loki admired her perseverance. She did have that retirement to plan for.

"You know where it is." Miss Maximoff whispered, mostly to herself.

"Indeed." He answered anyway.

"And you want me to open it for you." She was looking at him shrewdly.

"You are quite quick, Lamb." They reached the bottom. Loki lead her to a door she had never been through. More stairs. "I suggest you provide us with light as there seems to be a lack of torches."

She shook her head at him refusing to rise to the bait. She formed a swirl of glowing crimson light as they descended down into the dark. These stairs were new. The wood still smelled fresh. There was no moss growing on them either. Loki still let her hold onto his arm with her free hand. She seemed to tremble with fear the lower they went.

There was absolutely nothing at the bottom. No Door. No Signs. No light bulb hanging ominously in the middle of the room like some kind of weird torture room. Nothing. Not even footprints in the dust.

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time." His lamb said. She was grinning at him despite the sarcasm. The light from her hand made monstrous shadows on her face and the walls.

"This is all you girly. Use your power to find what we are looking for. But maybe, ease into it this time." He hoped she didn't see his grimace.

Miss Maximoff did not sit down, but she did seem to center herself. She placed her hands in front of her modest chest, one over the other, not touching. The middle finger of each hand extended toward the palm of the other. She hummed lowly, not in a chanting way but as if she couldn't find the answer and knew how close she was. The light in her hands grew, surrounding her wrists in runic patterns. Loki forced himself to stand his ground. She shifted her weight and one tendril, small and thin, wafted out and away. It ignored Loki, to probe the walls of stone. When it disappears beneath between the wall and the floor, Loki knew she had done it.

"Wanda," he said softly. She blinked her eyes open at him and suck the mist back to her. "You found it."

"Yes, I know." She mumbled.

"Now, open the wall." He urged gently.

"How?" She asked.

"A gentle push perhaps?" He suggested, smirking at her in the lowest of light.

"I'd like to give you a gentle push... right off a cliff." She told him and walked to the wall to inspect it. She could see no visible cracks.

 "I was unaware lambs had claws." Loki tsked.

Completely done with him, she turned her complete attention on the stone. She made a small ball of red with her fingers dancing. Then she tossed it toward the wall, like she was playing with a toddler. Nothing happened. He didn't interfere, with her power as untamed as it was, Loki was perfectly fine with baby steps. She made another ball of light, not much bigger, and she pushed it at the wall, making it wave-like.

The stone shook. She laughed and looked back at him. Loki nodded at her in approval. She made another, still palm size and pushed it again, a little harder. The stone trembled and groaned, loudly. Once more she pushed and with a terrible scraping sound, stone on stone, the wall disappeared, like a door opening inward.

She made a small noise and then danced in place, ungracefully flailing. Loki let her have her moment. Then guided her inside. There was an actual torch on the inside, hanging on the wall next to the opening. Flint and stone beneath it on a rotted wooden table. He lit it.

The room wasn't overly large. Smaller than his cell on Asgard but bigger than her one here. And it held treasure. Actual gold treasure. And gems, some loose, some in intricate jewelry. She pointed to the money on a table. "This is how you will pay the staff." She told him. Then she instructed him on the denominations. He packed up several bundles while she looked around. She didn't seem overly impressed by the glitter she saw. She did hesitate over a pair of pearl earrings. He gathered those up as well and handed them to her. She looked at him dumbly in response.

"For you, for a job well done." Loki said, slightly uncomfortable with the way she was eyeballing him.

"I still have to get the stone back into place." She said, hands behind her back to not take the proffered jewelry.

"I'll take care of that. You have done enough for the day. Take them, and wear them to dinner tonight." He told her.

"What is it with you and food?" Miss Maximoff asked. He didn't give her an answer. Then in a quiet voice, like in a memory she said:

"My mother had pearl earrings."

His Lamb, a bevy of sentiment.

Getting the stone into place was dirty, dusty work. His fresh clean shirt was now blackened by debris. Loki didn't mind. He now knew he could get in and out of the trove without the Little Witch. She watched him work with, once again, round eyes.

"Asgardian strength," he explained.

"You are not from Asgard." She rebutted. "You are something so much different." The lamb was side eyeing him.

"I trust you will keep it to yourself." Loki warned. His voice as cold as the skin he hid.

"I will," she agreed. "If you show me your true self."

She had no idea how much that was never going to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: What does an Eastern European girl find romantic?
> 
> Or: What does this American assume and Eastern European girl will find romantic?


	6. In this story, they go to Paris.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki rewards Wanda with a trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Little Black Heart went squishy with this scene. I hope yours does as well. Misery does love company, after all.

Once again Loki found himself awake in the middle of the night. This time it wasn't a type of ennui. His magic burnt arm was nearly healed, the skin no longer blue or crispy. His illusion was holding. He was relieved by the pinkness of his mending flesh. The scarring would be minimal.  His other arm was an entirely different story.

The stem was losing its vibrant green, nearly three quarters of it black, and Loki would swear it was smoking.

The constant pain was still there, the barbs still digging deep into muscle. Only, now it was increased. Enough to make him wish for the Aesir healers. He knew one was on Midgard. Taken by Thor to heal a comrade. He would travel to her if he wasn't suppose to be dead. He didn't have the time or inclination to deal with the fall out. For now he would manage it. Distract himself from it. The girl was an excellent distraction except for her routine need for sleep.

She had been doing well, developing her abilities. In the three days since finding the treasure trove, she had been concentrating better, wanting to succeed now that she knew she could. Her face smiled brighter each day. Loki warned her of wrinkles and she laughed right in his face, unconcerned with his retaliation.

Finding out she could use her abilities to fly had been... interesting.

Loki had nearly lost his calm façade. She could have broken her fool neck! Reckless! Irresponsible! When he told her so, she shrugged, then lifted him with the red mist never touching his body. He would not admit how his stomach dropped out of his belly. Loki imagined it splattered on the horrible carpet, staining it further. Miss Maximoff sensed his discomfort and mostly gently, set him back down. He called that perfect timing for the end of the day. His hands shook for the entirety of his shower. Loki hated not being in control.

That night at dinner, Loki asked his charge what her plans were, once Stark met his fate. She shrugged again. He still had not trained her out of the gesture. "I've always wanted to go to Paris." she said softly. He made no comment but he did make a mental note to ask Marta about what exactly was Paris.

"Only a magical place." She sighed. "Not like your magic, sire. It's a place of romance. The architecture. The music. The city of Lights. A girl her age would want her first kiss to be under the Eiffel Tower with the sky all lit up." Marta was swaying as if to an invisible tune. Loki wasn't sure what possessed his brilliant and cunning assistant to suddenly turn to mush. He did not like it.

But Miss Maximoff deserved a reward for her troubles. Loki told Marta to make it happen.

 

*******

 

It had been worth it. The train ride had not taken long. The accommodations, first class, gave Loki the leg room he needed to not feel confined. Miss Maximoff was relentless with her questions. He had not told her where they were going. Her curiosity was a live thing and red sparks shot out from her fingers often enough for him to insist she wear the glove Marta had packed. They were leather and maroon. His charge had "ooohed' over them for several minutes before dawning them. The material matched her coat. Loki wondered where Marta had found the time to find a tailor to outfit the girl.

Money well spent, in his modest opinion. She looked refined and mysterious in the deep scarlet color. It made her jade eyes look lighter and farther away. His charge was an untouchable beauty. Loki did not know how he felt about others realizing this. She had always been beautiful, in her baggy borrowed clothing and wane expression. Now she was on display and he was selfish enough to want to keep her to himself.

Marta gave him instructions to the hotel once they disembarked. Miss Maximoff was beside herself with excitement when she realized where they were.

"You were actually listening." She stated, surprised. "I thought you were a million miles away."

Loki would not tell her how he was attuned to her every movement. How her breath was a thing he counted. He was not comfortable with his new obsession with her. He was a hundred percent positive she would not be either. Discretion was the better part of valor.

  
The Hotel Pont Royal was exceedingly impressive for Midgardian standards. Loki managed not to sneer in time with the concierge, barely. Their room only had the one bed. Loki raised his eyebrow at the girl. She mimicked him.

"I've known how to share my whole life... have you?"

His selfishness was down to an art. There were epic poems about the things he did to acquire the things he desired. Her challenge played right into his hands. To be so close to her... Loki could think of nothing else he wanted at the moment.

His lamb decided dinner on the terrace would be excellent. She actually used the word "awesome" and made a noise he had only ever heard from a pig. She was infectious though and he found himself smiling at her in the low light of dusk as they ate a fine meal, with the view men had killed for in eons past. Loki enjoyed the veal but his desert was her blushes when he spoke quietly to her or when his hand accidently brushed hers. The intimacy was thick and unhurried.

They decided to walk to the Eiffel Tower. Loki wore his hair covered by a jaunty hat. The brim low enough to hide his eyes. Miss Maximoff insisted they were glowing green and she wondered if his magic was effected by the city's aura. He shrugged her theory off. He knew perfectly well why his eyes were glowing and it had more to do with the light in her eyes than the twinkling of Paris.

The walk took longer than anticipated. His lamb liked to meander and refused to keep up with his long legged pace. She grabbed his hand to keep him from running circles around her, having had learned to do so with her brother. The burning was almost pleasant with the cool air sending her sweet plum scent his way. She chatted at him freely, for the first time in a long time, not locked up inside. Their little trip was two-fold, Loki realized belatedly. A young girl enjoyed romance. But the witch craved freedom. The cool Parisian air was the first step for her.

Loki watched as she got closer to the brightly lit tower. It was no where near the grandest thing he'd ever seen. Asgard was a wonder all it's own and anything Midgard could create was a drop in the bucket of advancement. His lamb begged to differ. She thought it was magnificent. The most wonderful thing she had ever witnessed. She had taken to whispering as they stared from across the manicured lawn. Her grip on his hand was tight enough to make him check to see if she was using her power. She was not. Miss Maximoff was just that excited. Loki wanted to taste it on her parted berry lips.

"May I..." he turned her face to his. She looked up at him with the remnants of her wonder, licking her bottom lush lip.

"Yes." She breathed, caught up in the romance. She tilted her face up for him to reach.

He hesitated, savoring the anticipation, both hers and his. Her breath puffed against his chin until finally he met her mouth with his, softly, the way her hair felt in his hand at her back. She did not kiss him back at first, not until he eased his tongue across the bottom lip captured by his own. She mewled and leaned further into him. Loki felt his entire body aflame, both with the pain of the curse, but also with his desire to have her closer. Suddenly the simmering attraction to her, the consummation of his every waking thought was a bright and boiling amoeba of need for her in his loins. He could think of nothing he wanted more at the moment. Even the respect and deference he so desired was on the back burner to his lust for her curvy little human body.

She broke away, panting for air. She didn't get very far. He would not let her go now that he had her.

"Let me see," she asked, eyes large and pleading. "I wish to see your true form. I know what it looks like, can see the shapes and colors. but I wish to see, with my eyes not my mind."

"Not here." He said. "If that is your wish when we return to the castle then that is what you shall have."

"It is." She assured him as she snuggled closer to him. The air had turned cold. She could not know it was the Jotunn in him.

They took a cab back to the hotel. His lamb was weary from their travels and excitement. She slept beside him curled up, her feet tucked beneath his calves. She shivered each time he touched her smooth cheek in the dark. He relished the moments he had with her now. Tomorrow she would no longer let him so close.

The closer dawn approached, the more his arm burned. He didn't want to check it, he could tell the black had spread. Her touch was the cause. He could go his entire life not dying as long as he stayed far away from her. His lamb. Loki grit his teeth to keep from screaming in pain. Call him perverse but he liked the way she made him feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean you're six chapters in and Wanda hasn't even looked at his arm much less tried to see if she can fix it? 
> 
> Yeah, well, I actually have the 7th chapter done and it hasn't happen in that one either. I took a by pass and forgot my towel.


	7. Let's go kill the beast!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro makes it into the Tower and doesn't really ask for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: A struggle. Thanks to my beautiful and talented Seester! She laid my fears to rest. Go read her stuff
> 
> [DomesticatedTendencies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DomesticatedTendencies/pseuds/DomesticatedTendencies)

Pietro waited patiently. Something he was not known for. He watched the Avenger's Tower for several days, cataloging the comings and goings of the superheroes.

Captain America liked to run in the mornings. He took a dark skinned man with him. The Falcon is the Baron's intel was correct. He wasn't super powered but he was a formidable fighter, keeping up with a super soldier and a man of Iron and the God of Thunder. Pietro thought maybe he held a secret. Maybe he was a mutant like him and his sister. If so, no one was telling. 

The Black Widow liked to sneak out dressed like a normal person. How no one recognized her graceful walk or cat like reflexes, stumped Pietro. She had so many tells. He suppose it was because most normal people only saw what they wanted to see. He could literally race around them in circles and they would think its the wind because they could never believe a man could run so fast. 

The man he sought very rarely left the tower without at least five other men, one of them a portly body guard who was as ridiculous as he was vigilant. The man had already spotted Pietro twice, voicing into his wrist piece each time. Pietro was mostly positive they did not know who he was. 

Hawkeye was his way in. It wasn't ideal but the man did have an unhealthy addiction to pizza. Pietro easily bamboozled the pizza guy and took his uniform. The guard at the front waved him through to the elevator banks. Pietro's heart raced. He wasn't sure if he should force his way on the elevator and guess which floor or wait for the Archer to come pay for his pizza's. The choice was made for him when a pretty little brunette came down to pay. She was chatty and cute. On any other day, Pietro would flirt with her, try to get her to go out with him for some fun. But today, she was thwarting his plans. 

"I need you to take me to Stark. It is a matter of life and death." The knife he held wasn't his first choice in weapons. His hands didn't like the weight of it. Or the way her blue eyes grew big, looking at the point of it. He immediately wanted to throw it away and apologizing for scaring such a pretty lady. 

"I don't think this is the way you want to go about this. The lobby is loaded with big men with guys. You're at the wrong show, homie." The girl said. Her voice never wavered. She didn't even seem all that afraid. 

"This is what desperation looks like _Princezna_. My sister is being held captive by Loki. I need Stark's help to rescue her." 

"Give me that knife, dumbass, and come with me." said a voice to his left. It was the Black Widow and she was looking at him like he was the scum beneath her shoe. Pietro nodded and handed the ineffectual thing hilt first. Like a chastised school boy he followed the legend.

 

*****

 

"Who the hell thought it was a good idea to let the pregnant lady go down to the lobby to pick up Hawkass's pizza?" Tony wasn't exactly yelling. They were all gathered round a table in one of the offices on a dummy floor. It was clandestine enough for Stark to satisfy his boyhood spy wishes. 

"First of all... No." Darcy said, pointing at her husband. When he opened his mouth again she made the shushing motion. "Net. Non. Ne. I can go on... " He shook his head at her. "Are you sure? Ok. Second of all. I was totally stealing those pizzas, fuck you very much pregnancy cravings."

"You were gonna eat five sausage and pepperoni pizzas by yourself?" Bucky asked. 

"I liked you better when you were sleepy." Darcy pouted at him. 

"Do you always act so childish?" The Slavic accent was too smirky for Tony's taste.

"You don't get to speak."

"Tony, we need him to tell us about Loki." Steve reminded.

"Fine, you don't get to speak to my wife." After that little outburst he settled back into his chair and grabbed Darcy's hand. He absolutely did not like it when Darcy was threatened. Especially by Eastern Europeans masquerading as delivery boys. 

"Perhaps you should share what has happened." Thor instructed. His face was blank but his arms were crossed. Pietro was only a little intimidated by the hammer on the table in front of the Thunder God. 

"A little over a week ago, Loki came Baron Von Strucker's castle. My sister and I... live there."

"You hesitate. Have you allied with the Baron?" Natasha asked. She wasn't bent forward in her seat awaiting the answer. She was leaning back, shoulders relaxed and gently rotating her seat back and forth. The epitome of cool. 

"At first, yes. He made us promises. But he lies and only uses us."

"Uses you, how?" Steve asked. Bucky could see his left hand tighten around his pen. Steve would never grow out of not liking bullies. 

"They call us, my sister and I, Weird and Fast. I'm fast." Pietro could tell they had no idea what he was talking about, so he took a stroll around the room and settled back in his chair with Hawkeye's coffee in front of him. The steam still streaming to catch up.

"Fuck!" Darcy cried out. "He nipped the Java! I miss coffee!"

None of the Avenger's had anything to say right away. Then they fell over each other trying to get some answers. Pietro, haltingly, supplied them, as much as he didn't want to.

"Our father is a mutant. We both have the gene. Twins tend to both have it.  Our father left us to be raised, in Sokovia." Pietro eyeballed Tony Stark. He never flinched. Anger grew in the runner's stomach. "The family, our family was killed during a bombing. We were ten. One of the bombs that fell, didn't go off. We were trapped for two days... waiting." He was staring straight at the man who caused all this loss. "It read "Stark Industries". So eventually we met the Baron and he promised us, Tony Stark's head if we helped him with his crusade." The Avengers made noises of protest, some threats, Pietro shrugged them all away and continued. "By the time Wanda could figure out his intentions... it was too late. He knew how to control us and kept us locked up, powerless. The Baron left, some mission, and Loki showed up. Somehow he got rid of the guards, then he came to us and asked which one would stay and which one would leave. I volunteered to stay, but my sister... she wouldn't let me."

"Wouldn't let you, how?" Natasha was leaning forward now.

Pietro smiled, smug, "They call her weird because she's a witch."

Darcy snorted. "We have one of those."

"My sister's talent involves the mind. She can make a person see the future, or rather, a possibility of the future. She tricked me into thinking I was staying by walking out of the castle. I walked for 40 Kilometers, slowly, before the spell wore off."

"So why are you here. Why did you not just race in and rescue her." Hawkeye asked. The archer was twirling an arrow between his fingers. He looked absolutely harmless but Pietro had seen the footage where Hawkeye had stabbed one of the Chitari through the face with one of those arrows. 

"I tried. Something is blocking me. I can't even get close. It's like the wood themselves turn against me. I need... help."

"Wow. Did that hurt?" Darcy snarked. "It looked liked it hurt." She wasn't a hundred percent ready to forgive this strange and arrogant boy. He threatened her with a knife and he wanted her husband dead. Yeah, fuck that. 

"Why did you come to us?" Steve asked. 

"You know how to defeat him." Pietro shrugged. "You stopped him before."

The Avengers looked at each other, none of them giving anything away. It was Tony who spoke up. 

"I don't think we want to help you. In fact. All I've heard out of you is how you are our enemy, my enemy."

"I will gladly set aside revenge for the safety of my sister." Pietro said, heartfelt. He stared Stark in the eyes, unwilling to hear him say no. "She is the only thing I have left."

"He's not lying." The door to the conference room opened. Gerty was there, already dressed for Winter though it was a balmy 70 degrees outside. 

"Auntie, no!!!!!!" Darcy wailed.

"Loki is not here of his own volition." Gerty said. 

"I thought he was dead." Steve spoke up. "Did I mishear that?" He was looking at Thor. Thor, whom had battled with the sheen of tears in his eyes. 

"I did as well, Captain." Thor said quietly. "He died a hero."

"There are too many opinions at this table." Bucky grumbled. 

"Bro. I know!" Darcy fist bumped him with her free hand. 

"We need to go." Gerty was addressing the Captain. He nodded at her in agreement. Thor yelped with joy. The rest grumbled and mumbled until Pietro said:

"He has the scepter." It was a warning, to prepare them. "He did not seem to want to touch it though. He had it locked away."

"Well what in the hell does that mean?" Clint asked. 

No one had an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update might not be for awhile. Depends on how much sleep I actually want/need.
> 
> Enjoy my Lovies!
> 
> also:the author notes that Pietro does not know Darcy is Snow White but he thinks she's pretty and she lives in a Tower.


	8. On hiatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry follks! I'll be back!

Not a chapter! Remember! Things are never as dark as they appear!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are my lifeblood. Please feel free to sustain me!


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